


Advice From A Friend (part 2)

by Crunchy_Frog



Series: Trip A Little Lamplighter [2]
Category: Mary Poppins (Movies), Mary Poppins Returns - Fandom
Genre: F/M, I just want to write cute things, Lowkey no plot, pure fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-09-30 23:57:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17233568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crunchy_Frog/pseuds/Crunchy_Frog
Summary: - After watching 'Mary Poppins Returns', I absolutely fell in love with the Jack x Jane ship, and was immediately inspired by it, so, I'm creating this little series of oneshots that correlate with one another, and go throughout their lives as children, into adults. Enjoy! -This is part two - as indicated by the title - to the 'Trip A Little Lamplighter'





	Advice From A Friend (part 2)

**Author's Note:**

> More horrible Cockney accents! Whoopee!  
> Also, I'm trying to give a little bit of dialect difference between Bert and Jack so, for instance, I barely put 't' in anything Bert says, but Jack is a little more coherent.

The Little Girl in the Window, Jack had been lucky enough to learn, was actually named Jane Banks. She was the daughter of an esteemed employee of the Fidelity Fiduciary Bank; George Banks. He was a respectable man of high degree, the Lord of his castle. Admittedly, Jack had become more than a little crestfallen when he had overheard just how much status the Banks family had claim to. But, Bert being ever a friend, had picked up Jack’s spirit, as if it had never been down in the first place. 

“Jus’ because she’s got a lil’ more blue blood than ya don’t mean tha’ ya can’ win ‘er ov’r!” Bert had told him during an early meal of porridge and questionably ripe apples. “Look a' me and my girl!”

“I thought ya said you di’n’t ‘ave a girl.” Jack quirked an eyebrow at the man, shoveling the spoonful of slop into his mouth with a general air of disgust, mixed with gratitude and mild curiosity. 

“Well, it’s complica’ed, ya see.” Bert flushed and shrugged before standing up to his full stature, grabbing the sweep shafts from the corner where they sat, and slung them over his shoulder, and passing the lighting stick to his apprentice. “Buh I _do_ ‘ave a girl, mind ya that.”

Jack let out a little laugh, tucking his hands into the pockets of his tweed shorts, which _could have done with a bit of washing_ , he remarked. _Not much I can do about that, though_. 

“But, ‘ow do ya think I could get ‘er to… y’know… like me?”

“I fink she’s alrea’y got somefin’ for ya.” Bert shrugged again, whistling out a quick tune. “Buh, if ya’d like ‘o be sure…”

“Yes.” The boy's head shook furiously, and he looked up at Bert eagerly, ready to soak up whatever information he were to be given.

“Then listen closely, now.” Bert lifted his cap from his head, straightening out the lining before fixing it atop his mop of brown hair. “If ya wanna _woo_ this girl, then ya gotta be a gen’leman.”

“A gen’leman?” _Does he mean a the rich kind of gentleman, or the polite kind of gentleman?_ "Like... a poli'e one?"

“Of course. No respec’able lady wan’s a mean ol’ fella. _No!_ She’ll wan’ someone she can confide in, someone to make ‘er feel safe and ‘appy.” Bert had a look upon his face that was most certainly self-satisfied, as if he were priding himself on his own qualities based on what he was telling the boy.

“... Do girls like singin’?” Jack made a face, embarrassed by his own question. “ ‘Cause I can sorta sing…”

“Sure, sure! Lotsa girls like singin’, and some of ‘em like dancin’. Plenty like boaf.” Bert straightened his kerchief and gave a satisfied smile. “Tha’s ‘ow I got my la’y. Basically, any kinda talen' ya got, use it! She'll love it.”

Jack worried his lip under his teeth, nodding and taking mental note of everything Bert said. _I'm not all too talented, though. I can sing a tune and yell real loud, but..._

“Don’ worry abou’ it though.” Bert pointed to the first lamp that needed turning down, scooping up the boy in his arms to give him height. “Ya got charm. She’ll like ya no ma’er wot.” 

“Wot if ‘er dad don’t like me?” Bert let out a long, low whistle at that, shaking his head. 

“If I’m bein’ hones’, lad, I don’ fink you’ll _ever_ be able to win over George Banks. ‘E’s a stickler for _tradishun_ , if nuffin else. Don’ let ‘im stop ya though.”

The pair spent their working hours just as that - Bert spoon feeding Jack advice, and Jack voicing all of his little concerns. When they weren't chatting up a storm, the pair were sweeping and lighting, occasionally cleaning the walkways for well-dressed pedestrians ( _'Always a good way 'o earn a lil' extra!'_ ). Some of Jack's friends, the other children who'd been taken in by the laborers, would pass by the pair, and they would stop for a chat, while some pleaded for a game - games were always a great way for Bert to pass off duties he didn't feel particularly keen on doing, onto the other children. Jack caught him doing this often, and chided him frequently, though he did admire how smoothly the older man pulled off the sly trick. _Ought to try it for myself, sometime._

"So, do ya have any other 'alents?" Bert asked once they had finished their morning rounds. "Y'know, other than singin'?"

"I'm afraid not..." Jack's shoulders slumped, and he planted his chin in the palm in his hand, with a aura of dejection about him. His eyes were curious, however, as they stayed on Bert's pacing form. He held a long and thin wooden stick, much akin to his own for lamp-lighting. On it, however, was a chunk of yellow colored chalk. "I can sing and make pap'r airplanes... tha's all, though." 

"Not 'o fear!" Bert chuckled, tossing the stick between his hands, before rapidly turning it chalk-side-down, pressing it softly to the pavement. "Ya see, 'alent is learned, an' ya cer'ainly 'ave enough space up in that 'ead of yours to gather a few new tricks!" 

"For ins'ance?" Jack's eyebrows shot up, watching with interest now. Bert smirked, tapping his nose twice before flipping his hat off of his head, letting it fall upon the ground. He fished tuppence from the depths of his pockets, letting them clank into the cap. 

"Drawerin'!" He turned to the sidewalk, and began to draw out a frame for the picture. 

" 'Re you proposin' that I learn 'ow to draw or 're you tellin' me to become a screever? 'Cause I don' think Jane would like me much if I were beggin' for money through drawerin'." Jack quipped, stepping up to Bert, who swatted him softly on the back of the head, earning a fond laugh out of the boy.

"I'm teachin' you 'ow to draw," Bert handed Jack box of worn down chalk pieces. "Now, no more of tha' sass. Watch and learn!" 

Bert plucked a piece of blue chalk, rubbing it over the expanse of the frame, then swapped it for a darker blue, shading it at the top. Jack watched with fascination and a sense of hilarity as Bert removed his shoe, and ran his socked toes over the blue parts, blending it thoroughly, if not in a bit of an _unconventional_ way. Rapidly, Bert would switch out the colors, sometimes drawing the finer details with the stick, and other times he did it up close with a meticulous hand. Soon, once the sky was finished, he began to draw the skyline of London, bringing it to life with colors that Jack couldn't even have imagined would work together. Purple was joined with bright orange, blended to make the sun's reflections off of the dome of the Old Bailey; four different shades were blended together to highlight the city under the pale yellow sun that Bert had drawn, with black-silhouetted birds high in the skies.

" 'Ow do you _do_ that?" Jack sat on his knees, with his legs folded beneath him as he watched the quick sweeps of Bert's hand. 

"A lil' bitta magic is all." Bert turned his sooty, chalk-smeared face up, grinning broadly. "Me girl always like my drawerin's. Likes 'o take me on trips in and ou' of 'em."

Jack frowned deeply, looking up to the drawing man, his gaze fixed perplexedly on the top of his head. "You _what_?"


End file.
